Commander: supreme (rank 3)
At this time, their unique mission was quite simply to spread her lawless will through the orderly societies of the world. In their earlier years however, they were merely actors frustrated with the commonality of the current arts. Seeking matchless and peerless perfection of their craft, the group was desperate to stand out by any means necessary. It was at this time when a charismatic actor by the name of Percy fell into their clan planting the esoteric seed of chaos indefinitely. Sayang whispered to him intimately. It was he who would turn them into martyrs and transform them into kings. Many of them became assistants and advisors in high governments and kingdoms, twisting the rulers for their own needs. As they traversed the world under guise and guile, they would eventually gather followers also touched by the will of Sayang. Within the depth of the guildhall, these supporters also held court amongst the actors: a formidable cauldron of evil.
Amongst them; a man wearing dark shades and a flashy suit sits with his legs crossed. The expressionless Dr. Voodoo smokes carelessly as he watches the proceedings with great interest. Next to him, a young girl, her name is Star and she smiles greedily as if expecting a gift to be rewarded after the speech. A dark brooding gentleman with an open leather jacket and no shirt leans against a far wall. His body is covered with tattoos and scars. He whispers something to himself during the events. Two other men in sunglasses are parked nearby – a twisted healer turned Scourge and a Nomadic biker with a flair for havoc. They seem captivated at Percy’s every word. Conversely and last are Koji Itto and Keijo Namura. The vile duo is the only to have intimately met Mr. Percy and his travelling band before these events. Faithfully, they’ve followed him ever since.
“What a scene!” Marshell’s voice echoes as he addresses his small following upon a podium. “Soon we shall dance about the streets in ecstasy and rapture unlike any the world has ever seen. Will you join me?” The enthralled faction murmurs supportively in near unison. All but one shared the growing momentum; his face scowling in discord. He sat leaning forward like a cat ready to pounce on his prey; a fierce objector. “…Yes, of course you will.” Marshell continued. “With the coming of the Spire our time is nigh. Soon, the whole world will be broken from the restraints of order. You see, Sayang will teach us the ways of delight and frenzied joy. She will show us bliss and I will lead the way.” As he spoke, the actor flailed theatrically about the spectators until suddenly, “I’ve had about enough of this!” Leaping from his seat, Nomad thrashes Percy across the room. The others leap to their feet in outrage and stunned shock. “Stand down!” Nomad roars as he throws a chair from beneath him. It explodes on impact and sends the crowd flying. He then rises and cracks his neck, smiling and hovering before Percy. In his hands, Nomad wields a handful of marbles, holding it in the direction of the crowd. “Please move.” He daringly insists.
Telekinesis: supreme (rank 3)
- Area Affect
- Super Area of Effect
“In this new world, we take what we want? Is that right, Mr. Percy?” As he speaks, dribble slides down unto the face of the actor. “I…like…to…take…!” Quickly, Nomad explodes forward trying to shove the marbles into Percy’s mouth. Abruptly, Percy begins to bellow deeply. His laugh is cavernous, mysterious and sends a shudder down the spine of the biker. The onlookers watch in disarray, confused at his sudden disposition. Amid the hysteria, the Actor’s Guild also burst into laughter. Nomad spins around. His first thoughts are to silence the crowd with a couple of well-thrown explosive marbles. But he cannot. Puzzled, Nomad realizes that he is frozen in his current position. Near him, Percy stands to his feet. “Excellent.” He whispers in his ear. “You see…” He addresses to the perplexed crowd. “This is absolutely perfect. Mr. Nomad should be an inspiration to you all. He has truly grasped the full meaning of Sayang.” The actor jaunts with a swagger around the unmoving man. “Don’t look so confused people! This is chaos! This is our upcoming potentiality to be unleashed by our progenitor. Take what you want. Kill who you want. Do…what you want. This. Is. Sayang.”
Percy begins to jig around the body of Nomad. His followers of the Guild begin to chant in a queer unanimity. Nomad grimaces and struggles to drop the marbles from his frozen hand, desperate to end their amusement at his expense. Amused by the exertion, the marbles are pushed by an unseen force and thrown from Nomad’s hand. With a fiery explosion they cause a nearby wall to cave in. “Fine…!” Marshell exerts, “Fine. You want to play this the hard way. You want crazy? I’ll show you crazy!” Flat out, Percy slams his fist into the floor and everything within the room begins to tremor violently. He waves his hand forward and Nomad flies across the space. “I’ll show you how to do it!” He screams and rises aloft from the ground. An unseen energy swells around him as anything not tied down begins to levitate. Marshell hears a voice whisper in his head, “Put me down or else!” The tattooed man screams inside sub-conscious. Without haste, Marshell clenches his fist and flings the man into a wall…and another wall…and onto the floor. The Whisper Man doesn’t move again.
“You!” He says and turns to Nomad. “Let’s dance, shall we! I’ll lead.” Spreading his fingers, Nomad’s body unglues and he stumbles forward. Like a lion, the beastly man snarls and faces Percy. Whirling his arm to the left, Marshell summons a body through a concealed door and into the room. The pepper grey-haired man that is forcibly beckoned is beaten and bruised. He cries out in pain as his body slides before the biker. A nametag on his suit reads: Alexander North. “Don’t just stand there dawdling – kill him, isn’t that what you do?” Percy points at the Senator and in a rage does just that. Barreling forward, a snap and a sick crunch is heard as Nomad rips a table leg loose easily and cracks it into the head of the Governor. Some turn, some watch with mild interest and others, most notably, the Actor’s Guild cheer with glee. “Feel better now?” Percy asks. Nomad rises; invigorated by the insanity. Once again, he turns his attention to Percy. Twirling the table leg impressively, he makes a daring assault at the actor. Percy respectfully acknowledges the formidable competition and drops everything in the room. “You will die for that.” Nomad threatens in an inhuman voice. “Then this will be an epic tragedy. Art will be served in the end however. They’ll soon see.” Percy returns and looks to the assembly. “Come then, Action.”
Mind Control: supreme (rank 3)
- Area Affect
- Super Area of Effect
Immediately the table leg begins to glow and smolder. Before he can reach Percy, he quickly flicks several hidden marbles that were still in his hand. They shoot forward at the mentalist. With a pushing motion, Percy bursts the marbles in mid-air. They explode like a fireworks display. Floating backwards into the air, he begins to laugh uncontrollably. “Enough of this farce.” He proclaims. With a gesture from Percy, the members of the Actor’s Guild begin to rise one at a time. Respectively, they laugh with the madman. As Nomad looks on in fury, the guild begins to speak in unison, “Here Nomad, this is what madness looks like…” Shock appears on the biker’s face as he realizes that the actor’s are not merely speaking in unison, but projecting the thoughts of the madman before him.
Percy chuckles diabolically and the actor’s follow suit. Then waving his arm, He lifts his compatriot, Oldcastle from the floor. The chiseled performer sneers and tenses up, “Incoming, old boy!” Oldcastle yells and is flung at Nomad with neck breaking speed. Too shocked at the display to respond quickly, Nomad is struck hard. He tumbles back, but is immediately tripped up by Mrs. Talbain of the Actor’s Guild who is similarly slung across the floor by Percy. She squeals in delight as she brings the monster’s feet out from under him. Nomad falls on his back awkwardly. On his back, he winces as he looks up to see old Von Pelt hovering above him. “Bombs away, ya prick!” The old man gripes before he falls like a dead weight unto the parasitic man. The hit takes the breath out of Nomad. Von Pelt rolls off the beast and grabs his hip in pain, yet still chuckles strangely. The biker gasps in agony.
“Now…” Percy gestures towards the stunned crowd. Parasite and Scourge take defensive postures. Star grins mischievously enjoying the events tremendously. Dr. Voodoo lowers his shades calmly, anxious to see what the madman will do next. The Whisper Man begins to struggle to his feet. He falls again. “Is there anyone who is not prepared for the oncoming renaissance of man? Was this display too much for anyone to handle? If so, feel free to leave.” Marshell gestures towards the door waving his finger impatiently. The door bursts open with a telekinetic push. The grouping does not move. “Wonderful…” Percy says cheerfully. The door slams shut. Then turning dreadfully serious, Percy squints and finishes, “Because if any of you would have left this room today, it would have been the last decision you ever made.” Finally, he nods at Quimby of the Actor’s Guild; the little woman walks to Nomad and offers him a hand getting to his feet. “Dammit Percy, next time we have one of these little demonstrations…could you ease up a little?” he says. Percy smiles, “Indeed. Let it be understood folks that this was merely a demonstration. Please give a hand to Mr. Nomad for his gracious and exciting performance.” Slowly a clap builds as realization begins to set in for the onlookers. Voodoo smirks to himself almost knowingly. Meanwhile, the Whisper Man rises finally, “Next time could you warn someone when you are performing.” He snarls at Percy. “Get used to it.” Parasite returns from a corner. “This is Sayang.”
Percy grins widely, throws his hands up and bows; the entire room explodes in applause. Simultaneously, he walks towards the mutilated body of North, whose brain matter are chucked carelessly across the floor. The smell is atrocious. He picks up the tailored jacket of the former Governor and holds it before him. Looking over his shoulder, he addresses his fellow peers, “Come now…we have much work to do.”
The Return of CHAOS
Communication: standard (rank 1)
Years later at the Khazanian democratic primary, Governor North basks in the applause of an arena of future voters. His heartfelt story of the recent tragic death of his family in a freak car accident moved them to tears. His penetrating stance on the return to family values, ethics and philanthropy moved them to action. His standpoint on the separation of church and state were solid. As were his firm attitude towards a push for greater attention to education. He firmly pressed a three point action plan to fix the national economy and he minced no words. Truly, he was prepared for war, peace and everything in between. He was a man who seemed to have studied politics the entirety of his life, but came across with the down home tenderness of an everyman. Although North had always been a great oratory speaker, today he spoke like a Shakespearean trained artiste. His voice rose and fell in perfect timing. It was as if within a few days he had mastered panache, flair and method. Furthermore, this was merely his opening speech for a friend in which he shared similar views. However, two years later it would be these same viewpoints that he would use to run for Senator. In the eyes of the public, he was Governor Alexander North, but beneath the thin veil of mental and visual perception he was Marshell Percy, Child of Sayang and Master Psychic Psycho.